Family
by J.S. Mews
Summary: Erik knew death since he was but two years old...and Christine would learn why. Edgar Allen Poe is the inspiration behind this one.


**I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. This story is told in Christine's point of view. I do, however, own Erik's brother.**

Down once more, I plunged into the abyss of Erik's lair. I had gone so many times through the dark and damp hallways, down into the cellar. Once I reached there, he used to bow as if I were royalty and welcome me. Though he showed no emotion, I knew he was happy to see me.

This time was different. This time, I was forced down. I had been performing for the last time and I had called for the angels in my role. Suddenly, the lights went out. The monster formerly known as Erik had stolen me away! I could not believe him and his actions. I was incredulous at the way he stole me. Was it not him who had told me so long ago that I must finish every show? I never thought he would break his own rules.

Finally, he stopped in his home. He placed me in the room and kept me locked. Oh, the look in his eyes! The yellow beams of fire burning inside, angry and lost! I thought I was dead from the way he stared at me! The room became colder as he paced around, agitated. I could not help but cry out in fear and let tears fall. Then, he turned to me. Slowly, he looked once more into my eyes.

"You think you have it bad here, angel? Do you think that I, your faithful Erik, am mad? You shall know better soon enough." What kind of life could be worse than the one he was giving me? He was chaining me away from all I knew and I would be a prisoner.

"I have a story for you, angel. Erik will tell you what could be worse, for he knew himself about death before you may have been able to speak." His eyes cooled down uncomfortably as he began his tale.

"Erik was but two years old," he said, "Can you imagine? Two years alive on the Earth and he remembers the tale? Is he not remarkable?" Erik waited for an answer, but I was too afraid to reply. He continued.

"Erik was not alone. He had a brother and his name was Sergei. If their father had hated Erik, his hatred of Sergei was doubled and tripled upon that of the poor Erik. Erik and Sergei both had scars on their faces." Erik leaned close to me, pushing his masked face so close that I nearly fainted. He laughed at my fear and continued.

"You are afraid of this? Fear is not an emotion, child. It was a way of life. Sergei was five years older, and he had stayed in hopes that his father would love him. Is it not a good hope to hope to be loved? Love is a gift from the Devil, with its disguise of goodwill and pure evil hidden.

"So it was love that made Erik ask what happened to Erik's brother that day. He had cared so much for Sergei. Only he understood life. Erik's father slapped him, and said that Sergei was not ever to return. And he sat by a box with six sides. Erik sat with him, hoping to please him and maybe earn a kind word or two. Yet each moment that passed earned but more scorn, and Erik learned that it was useless to hope. He wandered out to read a story. It was a rather nice story of death. It was a tale that you would love, angel. It was a tale of dragons and such. And his father watched angrily.

"He had reached a point where the unscarred hero went to destroy the evil knight. They clashed swords and _cling!_ Erik heard a noise! He believed it to be his imagination, but it seemed so realistic. He looked up and saw his father look worried. Erik continued to read. It was thundering as the two battled and _boom!_ Erik heard loud booms in the house. It must have been just his imagination, he thought, but his father looked especially nervous.

"'He is here!' his father cried. The door creaked upon to reveal none other than Sergei. He had been buried alive, and was nearing death. Sergei leapt upon his father and strangled him mercilessly as they both died. And that is how Erik learned of death." I could not believe my ears! Erik was a master story teller. It could not be true. He seemed to know I would think that. He opened the door to what I believed was a closet. I passed out at the sight, for it was two bodies with what looked like wigs on them, tackling each other! And they had hair that looked just like Erik's.

Author's Note: This is inspired by Edgar Allen Poe's "The Fall of the House of Usher." Awesome horror author! You should read his stuff if you like horror.


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